No Rest for the Wicked
by xSweetInsanityx
Summary: Set after Season 3 Mid-season premiere. In the walker-infested forest, Daryl has left the safety of the prison to be with his blood. Though the walkers aren't the only threat lurking behind those trees. My verson of the second half of season 3. (May continue on.) Rated T for Dixon Tongue/Racism. (Sorry!) Caryl.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, Survivors, Fans, and Deceased! Welcome to my First Fanfiction: No Rest for the Wicked! This is an idea that came to me while sitting alone in my living room, on a Sunday night. The Walking Dead is taking a long break preparing for it's fourth season; leaving me to my own devices. How I miss my wonderful Dead Sundays! It is set during Season 3, after Daryl leaves the prison group to be with Merle. This is an alternate ending, if you will. I'm not certain if I should leave this 'story' as what it is: a REALLY short cliffhanging one-shot. OR a full blown story (Which I would LOVE to do). Just give me your opinion on the matter! I've already started on the next chapter, if y'all wish to continue! Annyyywaaayyss, here we have it:**

**Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own the Walking Dead, Daryl Dixon, or Merle Dixon. Aw well, I'll just screw around with their destinies. Mwahahaha.**

* * *

**_Brother's Brawl._**

_"Oh Lord, in the darkness, lead me on my way. Oh Lord, in the darkness, lead me on my way. Lead me home." Jamie N Commons: Lead me Home. (Walking Dead Season 3 Soundtrack)_

* * *

"Darylina! Where'd your balls go? 'Cause I know they ain't with you. Does Rick have 'em? Or is it that fine older piece of tail?" Merle's harsh voice penetrated Daryl's ears, gnawing at his nerves like a starving walker.

"Shut the fuck up, Merle." Daryl sat on a boulder, cleaning his arrows of blackened gore. He ignored the smirk Merle had plastered on his face.

"So it is the gray haired bitch, then? Carol was it? Hmm… wouldn't mind getting in on that action." Daryl's teeth ground together. He wondered how Carol took the news of his departure. She, better than anyone, should understand. Merle was blood. But in the back of Daryl's mind he couldn't help but imagine Carol's panic when Rick's group arrived back without him. Then that panic slipping away and fading into varying looks of anger. He rolled his shoulders, loosening his stress-tightened muscles. He didn't like the thought of Carol and Merle in the same room, his brother's eyes following her as she walked…

Daryl brushed past Merle, throwing his crossbow over his shoulder. He could hear his brother's deep chuckle reverberate through the dense trees. He felt his ears redden._ Bastard_.

* * *

"This Governor, what do you think his next move'll be?" Daryl spoke around his helping of squirrel. They'd gone hunting, earning them four squirrels and a rabbit for dinner. They sat in a deep-set cave of rock, with a fire still cooking the rabbit. Merle, wiping grease from his mouth with his hand, smirked.

"Oh, he's planning, that's for sure. He'll probably go after that nigger first. After she took his eye like that? Shit, I wouldn't be surprised if he took both. Then he'll go after the rug rat. Tie Rick to a chair and force him to watch his baby being gutted. May even cook daddy dearest some baby-back ribs. Oh, then he'd go for the girls. He'll torture them first, have fun with them. Then, when everyone is gone and done with, only then will he kill Rick. Pretty damn sure he wish he was dead by then." As Merle spoke of his predictions, Daryl felt a rock settle in the pit of his stomach. He tossed aside his portion of food, no longer hungry.

"Well, how the hell do we stop the prick?" Daryl asked the older man in a growl full of hatred, earning himself an annoyed look.

"Stop him? Why would I want to? It's because your prison buddies I lost my hand. They deserve what's coming to them. Twice over." Merle's left hand went to cover his metal extremity, the knife attachment sat against the wall behind Merle. Daryl snorted.

"No, you lost your hand because of you. Ain't no one else's fault, but your own. You threatened everyone on that roof. Beat T-dog. If you hadn't been such a stubborn asswhole, and stayed put, then we'd've found you." Daryl felt a dull sadness resonate through him. T-dog, one of the fallen. He remembered that day, full of despair and hopelessness. The day he thought Carol, too, had been killed by walkers. If it weren't for T-dog, she would've been. Daryl hoped, where ever the hell T-dog was now, he had it good. Daryl's thoughts were interrupted by Merle kicking at the fire, angrily cussing up a storm.

"What the hell do you know! I didn't handcuff my damn self to that roof. That was you good 'ol buddy, Deputy Do 'right! I didn't drop the key! It was that dumbass nigger! Hope his end was slow." That was the final straw; Daryl launched a punch into Merle's jaw.

"Touchy, touchy. You didn't tell me you were into the more… masculine people. Much less no black 'ens." Merle spit, sending a glob of blood and mucus to the cave floor. Daryl went for a second hit. Merle dodged out of the way at the last second, throwing Daryl off balance. He regained his footing, just as Merle swooped out of the cave, hopping over the dying embers of the fire. Daryl followed.

"What ya running for?" No sooner had the question left Daryl's lips had punch landed on his jaw. He ignored the pain, shaking his head to dislodge the momentary fog. He was thankful that the knife had been taken off his metal arm, he'd probably be dead if it hadn't. Though the metal itself didn't feel too good.

"Ain't no one runnin'. You want to fight? Well come on, little brother! You feeling Froggy? Then croak!" Merle stood at the edge of the clearing, where there was a cliff overlooking a small river. Daryl ignored the impulse to correct the saying. Merle was an idiot. He started at him, striding over with a purpose. Even though Merle saw him coming, Daryl still got the hit in. But not without cost. As soon as his hit landed on its target, Merle's eye, a hit was administered to his gut. The air was momentarily knocked from his lungs. Daryl straightened, aiming a hit to Merle's stomach as he went. Merle grabbed his hand, and twisted. Pain shot up Daryl's wrist.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl swung his other hand up, hitting Merle in the chest. Merle stumbled back, his grip loosened from Daryl's wrist. It was in that second, that Daryl realized the way Merle was falling. He was far too close to the cliff. Daryl hastily tried to grab Merle by the shirt, but the fabric was to worn. It ripped in his grip. Merle, as if in slow motion plunged over the edge. There was no scream, no sound of surprise. It seemed like forever before Daryl heard the plash from below. He was already on the move, making his way to the edge. He looked down. Merle, surrounded by crimson water, was lying on his back. Daryl frantically found foot holds in the rock over hang. It was torture at how slow he descended the cliff. When he got about half way down, he heard the first of the snarls. Walkers. _Shit!_

* * *

**_R&R! :3_**


	2. Chapter 2: Blood

**Welcome back, Survivors, Fans, and Deceased! I had begun to write this directly after I posted the first chapter. Then I realized I didn't find it believable. So I rewrote it. I'm still not certain I like it. But, aw well! I can always go back and tweak it. Hopefully y'all will enjoy it! If you find any mistakes, let me know! I do not profess to be a pro at grammar. In fact, my English 4 honors teacher would argue the fact that I, certainly, am not. Any ways, enough about my poor grammar skills! Enjoy.**

**Thanks to: Pacmayne, 1rockstar, Kheela, and i luv ewansmile for alerting, favoriting, or reviewing. It made my day!**

**Reviews:**

**Pacmayne: _Yes, it's my first. Thank you! And haha, this update is sort of the answer to that last question._**

**I luv ewansmile: _Thank you! I love cliffhangers. I'm glad you liked the beginning. Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter. As I said before, I'm a bit wary of it._**

** Disclaimer: Last I checked, hell was still toasty warm. No hell freezing over today. Check back in a few days.**

* * *

**_Chapter 2: Blood._**

"The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living."

-Marcus Tulius Cicero.

* * *

Daryl looked down, pulse thundering through his head. There were five walkers shuffling through the rocky stream, straight towards Merle. He was still a little over half way from the ground, but he couldn't wait any longer. He let his hands slip from their holds.

He landed legs first, and then fell onto his back in the water. The impact shook his bones, jarring his leg in the process. He let out a grunt of pain. All the commotion had gained to attention of the walkers. They changed directions, stumbling through the ankle deep water towards him. He looked around for a weapon. His crossbow still lay beside Merle's knife attachment in the cave. He patted his pants, in search of his knife.

"Damn it!" It must have fallen out. Daryl stood, hastily picking up the closest rock. He stumbled as a sharp pain bolted up his left leg. He regained his balance, just as the first of the walkers reached him. As he took out the walker, Sickening black gore erupted from its head, splattering Daryl's face. Daryl looked around, behind the two walkers shuffling towards him, there was a walker beside Merle, head bent; preparing for a bite. Daryl launched a rock, full force, at the walker's head. It fell back, making it and the other walker behind him fall into the shallow water. Daryl dodged the walkers in front of him, ignoring his brother, only stopping by him to pull the knife, he always kept in his boot, out. He sent a silent thanks to whoever the hell was listening, when he felt the familiar leather handle. He dispatched the remaining walkers with ease, only having trouble when pain would scream up his leg for moving it in the wrong direction.

Daryl turned, finally, to Merle. He crouched low, ignoring the pain in his leg, and felt for a pulse. Fumbling fingers searched for the rhythmic thrum of a heart, but found none.

"Come on you tough son of a bitch! Come on!" Daryl attempted CPR, breathing into his brother's mouth, then beating his chest. But there was nothing. No heartbeat. No breath. No Merle.

Daryl fought back tears, his shaking hands pumped Merle's chest, in hopes that it would catch on to the rhythm and beat on its own. Bloody water surged around them in small waves with each push. Merle couldn't be dead! He couldn't. No one killed Merle, but Merle. Not no damn cliff. Or rocks. Or-or Daryl.

After what seemed like hours, life stirred within Merle. A faint, raspy breath filled his long-dormant lungs. Daryl fell back, eyes wide and full of tears. Merle's eyes opened to reveal hollow, bloodshot orbs. He began to rise, a series of grunts and growls, Daryl associated with walkers, left Merle's lips.

Daryl lost it; big fat tears fell down his distorted face. Merle stepped forward; metal glinted in the sun that filtered through the trees. Daryl put his hands up and shoved Merle back. The wound on his back, where a sharp rock had pierced through, was visible as he made a sharp circle to regain his footing. He couldn't bring himself to kill him, but Daryl knew it's what Merle would've wanted. After the third shove, Daryl pushed Merle to the ground, landing on top of him. He held his knife up, ready to end Merle's life for the second time. Daryl wished for his brother to stop him. For Merle to yell up to him to stop this bullshit, to be a man. But only disgruntled growls came from Merle's lips.

Daryl shoved the knife down, repeatedly. He took his anger at the situation, the world, his brother, and the apocalypse out on this creature that was once his brother. With each stab, Daryl's tears only grew. When the final stab was administered, Merle couldn't be recognized. His face was a bloody pulp atop a sodden body. Daryl fell back into the water, laying his head on a rock; crying.

* * *

"Hey, come on, baby brother! Whattaya a woman? Hold it up, strong, like this." Merle stood at the side of a 5 year old Daryl, displaying the proper way to hold a crossbow. Daryl, with a significantly smaller one, attempted to copy the older brother's stance.

"There ya go! Now, see that rabbit? All the way over there?" Merle pointed through the trees outside the Dixon house. Daryl's eyes squinted, following Merle's finger. In the distance, a white rabbit was chewing on a bush's low-hanging leaves.

"Yeah! Yeah, I see it!" Daryl's excitement bubbled through his squeaky voice. But that excitement died when Merle hushed him, aiming a glare at the younger Dixon.

"Quiet the hell up! Ya gunna scare the damn thing! Now, aim. Remember to breathe." Daryl followed Merle's instructions. He held the crossbow up in the appropriate stance, lined the crossbow up with its target, and let out a steadying breath. The bolt flew true, embedding itself in the rabbit's skull.

"Damn, nice shot, Darylina! You're a natural. Now go collect it. I'mma teach ya how to skin your kill." Daryl, in hopes of impressing Merle further, quickly ran and grabbed the rabbit up. Just as Daryl returned to Merle, a drunken yell could be heard from the direction of the house.

"Ya boys bett' get your asses in here, now! Why the hell ain't there no food? I swear, Daryl!" Daryl's childish eyes grew wide, looking to Merle for some advice. Merle shook his head, an angry scowl on his lips.

"We better go. Ya know what happened the last time that prick was in one of his moods." Merle started making his way out of the woods. Daryl suppressed the memory of his dad, drunk and angry, putting a cigarette out on the skin of his shoulder blade.

* * *

Daryl wiped his tears from his face. If Merle had been here right now, he'd certainly would have punched Daryl in the arm and called him a pussy. He needed to pull himself together, and get a move on.

Daryl looked around the shore and found a flattened rock. He used it as a make-shift shovel. It took him hours, but finally his brother was put to rest, beside the stream. Daryl didn't let any more tears fall as he held the shot-gun funeral. It seemed fitting that Daryl was the only one attending. It'd always been this way, the two Dixon Brothers versus the world. But so much had changed. They were no longer kids, brought closer by their father's wrath. Or grown men, without a care in the world. Now it was only Daryl, who had people counting on him. Daryl placed a small Cherokee rose below a cross he'd made with sticks. He stood, only giving one last glance to his brother's final resting place, before he made his way back to the cliff. He climbed at a steady pace, despite his injured leg, Merle's knife secured in his boot. He collected his crossbow from the cave, ignoring the uneasy feeling in his stomach at the sight of their last meal.

Daryl limped through the trees, beginning the long trek back to the prison.

* * *

**A/N: Well, there ya have it. Not sure how I feel about it. Though, I'll admit it, I cried a little bit. I'm a sissy! The events in this chapter were inspired (greatly) by This Sorrowful Life. Hopefully y'all don't feel cheated, like y'all are just reading that episode. I just couldn't fathom a better way for Merle's animated self to die. Love it, hate it? Let me now, R&R!**


	3. Chapter 3: Nightmare

**Welcome back(: Fair warning: not much happens in this chapter. I just played around with Daryl's mind, a bit. Nonetheless, I hope you all enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: I threw a pig off of a roof today. Nothing. Pigs were just NOT meant to fly. Which means: I'm just NOT meant to own The Walking Dead or Daryl Dixon. Sigh..**

**Reviews:**

**Pacmayne:**** Thank you! **

**what evil lurks:**** Haha, I'm glad you liked it. I'm glad you enjoyed the rabbit scene, also. I liked writing that one(: **

* * *

**Chapter 3: Nightmare.**

_"We are to learn about fear, not how to escape from it."- Jiddu Krishnamurti._

* * *

"Daryl, Daryl!" Merle's voice echoed around the dying forest. Trees hung low with dying limbs. The smell of rot filled Daryl's nostrils. Decaying shrubs grabbed at his boots, causing him to stumble.

"Merle? Merle where are you?" Daryl's voice sounded weird, as if it were coming from someone else's mouth. It echoed, mixing with the sound of his name.

"Daryl, you got-" Merle's voice was cut off. It was replaced with a guttural scream. The scream pierced Daryl's ears, sending a sharp ache deep within his head. He rushed towards the source of the sound, once again stumbling against the treacherous foliage. He reached where he thought the scream originated, but the sight before him was not what he expected.

He thought he'd come across a wounded Merle. But, instead, on the ground lay Carol. Her blue eyes darted to him, as he broke into the clearing. She lay in a puddle of blood. Her stomach-or what used to be her stomach-was shredded; a walker lay dead beside her. Daryl stood in shock. C-Carol? No, no, no. This ain't right. No, not Carol.

"Me-Merle." The sound of his brother's name on her dying lips brought him back into action. He didn't have time to question why she said it. Or why it wasn't his name. He ran to her side, and slid her fragile head onto his lap. Her eyes were fading fast, their once vibrant light dimming to a lifeless gray.

"Carol? Ya stay with me a'ight? Don't ya leave me, now! Damn it!" He took her face in his palm, and shook it gently. Her reaction was minimal, a small flutter of her eyelids. All too soon, she drew her last breath. Daryl didn't know what to do. So, he did what any one would do in this situation. He pulled out the small handgun from his holster. He stood, aiming to gun down at Carol's head. The scene before him was all too familiar. He felt as he was reliving Dale's final moments. Only this time, it was Carol. Sweet, innocent, strong, beautiful Carol. He closed his eyes. He pulled the trigger.

"Well, well. Ya do got some balls after all. Too bad the bitch hadda die. Wouldn't 'ave minded keeping her around. If you know what I mean." Daryl's eyes shot open at the sound of Merle's voice. But this thing, it wasn't Merle. Merle, with bits of blood and flesh dotting his face and teeth, stood above Carol. His dead eyes lingered on her for a moment before they came, slowly, to Daryl.

Merle leaned his hand down towards Carol's stomach wound. Daryl noticed that two of his fingers were missing, as well as the black blood running down his arm. To Daryl's utter disgust, Merle picked up a piece of skin, twirling it around one of his remaining fingers like a kid playing with spaghetti, and placed it into his mouth.

"Hmm. Mind skinnin' this en? I'll skin the others." Merle gestured to the far side of the clearing. Only then did he notice a large game pile was laying in front of a beat down log cabin. When he took a closer look at the game, bile rose in his throat. Mixed with squirrels, deer, and birds, where the bodies of the people belonging to the prison group. _His group_.

Merle's laugh, once again, echoed through the clearing. As it faded out, Merle's voice could be heard, slightly distorted around groans and growls.

"You made me this way. You did this! You!"

Daryl screamed.

* * *

Daryl woke with a start, almost falling from his hideout in a tree. A cold sweat had broken out across his body, adding to the chill of the morning. He tried to shake the dream from his mind, tried to replace the horrific forest from his nightmare with the lively one he found himself in. He was unsuccessful.

He hopped down from his perch, first throwing his crossbow into a bush. His leg complained when it made contact with the ground, but he ignored it. He limped over to the bush, and retrieved the crossbow. He felt better when he felt the familiar weight of it across his shoulder.

He made his way through the woods, stopping occasionally only to let his leg rest. Each time he'd look around the forest, his dream would come rushing back to him. He couldn't shake the sight of a life-less Carol. Or his brother as a walker.

_You made me this way. You did this! You._

He, after what felt like hours, spotted the prison in the distance. At the moment it was just a brown-ish red speck in the distance. But hope bloomed in his chest, the dream now forgotten.

He began to awkwardly run, leg ailing him. As he drew nearer and nearer, it became apparent that something was terribly wrong. He could feel it in the air. He made it in record time, despite his injury. When he broke through the trees, he spotted Rick. He was pinned against the prison's fence by a couple of walkers. He had a bolt through the first walker's head before he could register the prison's state. Walkers roamed within the gates. _Within._

He sent another bolt for the remaining walker. Rick looked up, dazed. When he registered Daryl, his eyes sharpened. This was the Rick he knew. Calm, calculating.

"Daryl, help those inside!" He followed Rick's order, and made his way back inside the gates. He was home. _But as what cost? _A voice, which sounded like his brother, said.

_But at what cost? _Daryl picked up speed.

* * *

**A/N: See what I mean? Not much happening. His dream took up most of this chapter. Sorry. But I just didn't want to get into the prison, because I'd have no clue where to cut it off. Oh did I mention I ship Daryl/Carol? I think their relationship is adorable! I hopefully, if life allows it, will have a speedy update. Hope y'all enjoyed it. If not? Feel free to tell me! R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4: My Own Prison

**Hey again! Daryl's back at the prison! (I'll write more A/N at the bottom(;) Also, if anyone cares to see them, I have links to my Norman Reedus Sketch and my Walker Merle sketch on my profile. The latter isn't my favorite, but I uploaded it anyway. Lol, those were the only two I had readily available.**

**Disclaimer: Hmm.. Nope, still not mine. Sorry.**

**Thanks to: Deb Tiaki11, Bethmsearle, Mal4Inara, MeganSparrow, asdf5101, goldendelicious, and purehalo for your Alerts/Follows! I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**_Chapter 4: My Own Prison_**

_"Home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home."  
-Stephanie Perkins, __Anna and the French Kiss._

* * *

Inside the prison's first set of gates, it was chaos. Walkers staggered aggressively towards the fleeing members of the group. Glenn shot at a few, while trying to usher the members into the secondary gate from his truck. Daryl took aim at any walker that dared come close to them. He stood sort of to the side, a short distance away. He was better at picking them off at long range. All too soon he used his last bolt. A curse flew from his mouth as he went to collect his ammo. Each second he spent gathering his bolts, the longer the walkers had to reach the gate. Thankfully, at the moment, they were a good distance away. He ran for the gate, helping Carl shut it in the process.

Daryl looked to see if everyone was accounted for. Glenn was hovering behind Maggie as she hugged her sister. Carl was standing beside him at the gate anxiously waiting to have to open it. Rick was still behind Daryl, taking out walkers, making his way back to his people. Michonne stood at distance away, leaning against the brick wall of the prison. There were two missing. Where were Carol and Herschel?

"Where's Carol?" Everybody's eyes landed on Daryl at once. Carl, who was standing with the keys locked firmly is his grip, looked up at Daryl with tired eyes. He flashed Daryl a smile. The remainder stood still with features filled with shock, which soon faded into happiness. But there was still a grave look on each individual's face. Something was wrong. The only faces that remained unfazed were Glenn and Michonne's. Michonne looked disinterested and pissed off at the same time. Glenn, with his face displaying worry and anger, looked around Daryl, searching.

"Where's your brother?" Glenn's voice was harsh, the word brother coming out as if it was a curse. Daryl flinched. Merle. What should he tell them? That he killed him? Would that make them happy? Or would they look at him differently? Would they think of Daryl as a danger to the group? Daryl felt his face move into its natural state: defensive. He made sure his outward appearance didn't show the pain that was erupting in his chest.

"He's gone. Ain't no need in worrying about him no more. Now, where's Carol? And Herschel?" Daryl all but growled at the boy. Everyone was now looking around awkwardly, probably unsure as to what to do with the angered men. Glenn didn't back down.

"Well where the hell is he? How do you know he won't just come back? Maybe go for a round 2 with Maggie and Me? I-" Daryl couldn't take it any longer, he shoved Glenn back. The force of his shove caused Glenn to fall to the ground. He got up quickly, shoving Daryl back. Daryl, if he weren't so pissed, would've laughed. The kid had balls, he'd give him that. Daryl shook his head. He sounded like Merle. His throat tightened.

"Hey, hey! Enough. There is no need to fight amongst ourselves. We are a group, we do not fight!" Rick banged on the gate, and Carl swiftly opened and closed it. He was panting as he said his short rant, glaring pointedly at the two men. "Now, everybody go inside. Daryl stay out here. I'll need help clearing the remaining walkers."

Everyone started for the door. Only Glenn was hesitant, but continued when Rick shot him an irritated glance. Daryl walked up to Rick. The man's appearance was haggard. His beard was black and grey and red, blood spatter covered the left side of his face. Daryl cleared his throat, once again feeling it tighten.

"Where's Carol?" His voice was less demanding when speaking to Rick. He respected the man who got their group through so much. The man had lost one of the most important things in his life for his people; he deserved to be treated as a man of honor. His face clouded over, sending Daryl's heart into overdrive. That look was never good. _Never_.

"She was shot. I believe that Herschel is with her now." Rick's eyes looked to the walkers at the fence, not wanting to meet his eyes. Daryl didn't know what to do. Carol had been shot? Rage filled his heart, momentarily relieving Daryl from his grief. He was going to kill that son of a bitch! The governor- Daryl snorted- that man didn't deserve that title. He deserved a bolt to the head.

Daryl turned to the gate and began angrily killing the straggling walkers with his handgun. Curses flew from his tongue just as fast as the bullets. With every dead body that dropped, more anger filled Daryl. How could the Governor think he could just come in here and terrorize his group? Who the hell does he think he is? When the last of the walkers where killed, Daryl turned to Rick. During his outburst, Rick had situated himself against the wall, much like Michonne had done. He stared at Daryl with scrutiny.

"The hell you staring at?" He slid his hand through his hair. He wandered if he looked like a mad man to Rick. Though, Daryl had seen Rick in a much worse state. He would understand his situation. The thought of someone understanding made Daryl want to confess, right then and there. He bit his thumbnail, in aggravation. You don't need anyone to swap sob stories with. Don't be a pussy.

"Nothing. I'm just worried is all. Carol is going to be fine. But this death will probably hit her hard. As well as the Merle threat…" Rick trailed off, leaving Daryl to answer if he was a threat or not. His grief returned. He quickly masked it.

"Believe me when I say this, Rick. Merle ain't no threat to us no more." Daryl looked into Rick's eyes, willing him not to question him further. Then it hit Daryl. This death? He mentally counted those he'd counted before. Carol and Herschel. Glenn and Maggie. Carl and Beth. Rick and Judith. Michonne and Axel. He hadn't seen Axel among the survivors. _Axel_, the rehabilitated convict, was _dead_?

"The death, was it Axel?" Daryl was thankful there was something other than Merle to talk about. He mentally kicked himself for his lack of sensitivity. A man had died. A good man.

"Yeah. He was the first to be hit. He was standing beside Carol when he was shot. I was outside the gate when I heard the governor attack. If you hadn't of been there, I would've died. I'm grateful." Rick clasped Daryl's shoulder. He gave him a quick squeeze, before turning and making his way for the door.

"Rick?" Daryl was still unsure as to what to do. But there was one thing he was sure of. He wanted the Governor's head on a platter. Rick turned back to Daryl.

"Yes?"

"We need a strategy. This 'Governor', he's out for blood. Nothin' more. And judgin' by his attack today, we got us a war on our hands." Daryl stifled a shutter. His mind went back to Merle's warning about the Governor. Their last conversation. Daryl shook his head, trying to dislodge the dark emotions that were stuck there.

"I know," He paused, sending a wayward glance at the prison. No doubt thinking of his broken family and the group's losses. "I know."

There was an ominous feel to the air, as if their conversation was foreshadowing darker events to come. Daryl, following behind Rick, prayed that they could make it through this- group intact. But he had a sinking feeling that that was not going to be the case.

He meandered into the cell block, taking in the familiar line of cells and gray brick. He didn't have time or the mental energy to enjoy the sight. He, directed by Beth, headed for Carol's cell. The young blonde had grown up so much since they left the farm. He young face now held a since of wisdom that should not be on a teenager's face. Beth, like Carl, was missing out on a piece of her childhood. She had to step up and help care for the group and a baby. He couldn't imagine how hard it must be for someone so young. She cast him a smile as she pointed out the cell.

"I'm glad your back." Her voice was faint as he walked to the cell at the end. He wasn't even sure she'd said anything. He nodded his head anyway, just in case.

The sight before him was heart wrenching. Carol was laying, hands folded atop her stomach, facing the bottom of the top bunk. With a sinking stomach, Daryl sat in the chair stationed in front of it. She looked like she belonged in an open casket at a funeral. He looked towards to door, making sure no one was looking in. He placed his hand on top of hers.

"You're a tough woman. Shit, the toughest I've met. You're goin' to be fine. And when you wake up, you're going to give me hell for leaving. And I'm- most likely- going to be mad as hell. But that's a'right, So long as you're alive." Daryl didn't know what it was about Carol, but the thought of her dying was particularly horrific. Maybe it was the part of himself he sees in her. They way she isn't letting this world beat her down. She just takes hit after hit with determination. Like he did.

He wondered idly if he'd ever fully get over his brother's death. O-or his part in it. His heart ached at the thought. Merle would still be here if it weren't for him. He just kept picturing the Merle from his childhood, the Merle who would take a beating from his father to save Daryl from that same fate. He-admittedly- was probably high at the time, but still there was that selflessness that Merle had about him back then. But the Merle on the cliff, he was different. Daryl didn't think that _that_ Merle had selflessness in his dictionary. And Daryl hated that fact. It couldn't have just vanished into thin air. What made Merle turn on that instinct to help? They were brothers and yet Daryl didn't know. And that may be what hurt the most: the not knowing. Daryl felt anger towards his father, the drugs, the world- whatever the hell made it have to end this way. Even himself.

Daryl brushed a tear from his eye, thankful that he wasn't in the presence of a conscious being. He'd never allow anyone to see him in this state. He felt angry at himself for shedding every tear. Yet he couldn't help it. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He had a war hanging over his group's head, tension with Glenn, and Carol lying unconscious with a bullet wound.

_What the hell was he going to do?_

* * *

**A/N: So, this Fanfiction will have some of the events from the show (like this one) in it. It's going to be my take on the way the show _could_ have gone. There will be character deaths in the show that will not happen here- and vice versa. What do you guys think so far? Is my pacing right? (Its my first! So, I'm uncertain.) Is there something you'd like to see happen in the Fic? Or a certain death you want to _never happen_? I'd like to know! R&R! :D**


	5. Chapter 5: Calm

**Hello, again! In this chapter we have some damage control, Axel's funeral, and some Lil' Asskicker(: Not too much in the action department though. Sorry. Lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: It's still not mine, is it? Hmph! Aw well..**

**Thanks to: WhiteShadow21, what evil lurks, lismrox, and 8IceMoon8 for reviews/alerts/follows! **

* * *

_**Chapter 5: Calm.**_

_"Like all of us in this storm between birth and death, I can wreak no great changes on the world,_

_only small changes for the better, I hope, in the lives of those_

_I love."__  
-Dean Koontz._

* * *

All too soon, Daryl's visit was over. Rick cleared his throat in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. Daryl snatched away his hand, from where it had laid on top of Carol's cold ones. He stood, turning to Rick with a questioning look.

"Ya need something?" His voice was gruff, as if it hadn't been used in days. How long had he sat in here? He looked behind Rick. There was no sign of life within the cellblock, and no light filtered through the high windows. It was late.

"I think it's time you rested. I'll need you energized for tomorrow. We have some cleaning up to do. And we'll need to hold a funeral for Axel. Herschel is next door. Carol will be fine." Rick's eyes shifted to the sleeping form on the bunk behind Daryl. Though his words were optimistic, there was still worry in his tired gaze. The group had lost so much already. Axel was gone. What if they lost Carol, too?

"Fine." Daryl grunted. He knew Rick was right. No matter how much he didn't want to sleep; he had too. His going crazy with sleep deprivation wasn't going to help Carol or the group. He was just afraid of what he'd see when he shut his eyes.

Rick moved from the doorway as Daryl walked past him. He heard a whispered 'good night', and gave a grunt of acknowledgement. He made his way to the perch he'd claimed as his sleeping quarters. His makeshift bed was made up and his meager wardrobe was folded neatly beside it. He felt a slight smile spread across his face. The woman had taken care of him, even though he'd left. She had the natural knack for taking care of people. Daryl wondered if it came naturally. Maybe it was because she was a mother, or because of her situation with Ed. He gritted his teeth. He hated asswholes who looked to their family as personal punching bags. He'd grown up with one.

As he lay down in his bed, he recounted the day's events. He couldn't wrap his head around everything that had happened. The walker bomb, Axel's death, Carol's injury. It was all too much. All of that coupled with the grief for his brother, made Daryl want to just crawl into a hole. Where none of the shitty world could reach him. He snorted at his own cowardice.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and willed sleep to take over his racing mind. Even the nightmares were more appealing right now, than the worrying thoughts clouding his mind.

It seemed like hours before sleep did finally grasp his mind. And, as expected, the nightmares wrecked their havoc on his mind.

* * *

Light penetrated his eyelids, causing Daryl to finally break away from the dark forest in his dreams. It was always that same dream. Walker Merle wanting to skin his group, Carol dying, and Merle's accusation echoing through Daryl's brain. He repressed a shutter, pulling on his boots from where he'd kicked them off last night. He made his way to the bottom floor, angling towards Carol's cell.

When he reached it, he saw that Herschel and Beth, with Judith in her arms, where already in there. Herschel was measuring Carol's pulse with a steady hand. Beth was seated in the chair beside the bed. She was holding a bottle up to Judith's mouth. She seemed to be struggling to get the baby to take it. The baby lay, squirming, in the young blonde's arms. Tears where in the baby's eyes as her high pitched wailing broke out.

"Come on, you know you want it. Mmm, nom nom." Beth cooed at the baby. Daryl wasn't surprised she wouldn't take the milk. He wouldn't either if he was being talked to like a dumbass. But, then again, Daryl didn't have much experience with kids. And zero experience with babies. Maybe they liked that shit. Daryl scoffed. He doubted it.

"You want to try, huh? You think you could do better?" Beth, face reddening, snapped at Daryl. Hell, he might as well.

"A'right." He grunted, leaning forward to collect the infant. Beth looked momentarily startled, as if the prospect of Daryl wanting to feed the baby had never actually crossed her mind. She hesitantly handed the baby over.

"Hey, there, Lil' Asskicker," He looked down at the young girl in his arms. She was staring up at him in awe, no longer squirming or crying. "You got to drink, ya hear? Got to be able to grow big and strong, so that you can kick some walker ass." As he talked to the baby, Beth sat awkwardly in her seat. She looked like she was ready to leap up and catch Judith at any moment.

"With the way you talk to her, that baby's first words are going to be a sight to see." Herschel turned away from Carol, a sad smile on his face.

"Ain't nothing wrong with the way I talk. In a world like this? What the hell does it matter what her first words are? So long as she makes it to her first words." At his grim words, Herschel turned for the door.

"I suppose you are right. Carol's state is the same as before. I changed her bandage, there doesn't seem to be any infection. Hopefully she'll wake soon. " Herschel sent a wistful look at Carol, like he hoped his words had sparked some life into her. No such luck.

"She will." Beth and Daryl spoke at the same time. Herschel looked between the two before leaving.

Daryl settled to bottle into the infant's mouth. Her brown eyes flick from the bottle to Daryl, and back again. She began to hungrily drank, eyes drooping slightly. Beth looked a little pissed.

"Really? I tried to get her to eat all night! She wouldn't stop crying for nothing!" There was a whine to Beth's voice that, once again, reminded Daryl of her youth. He didn't know what to say to that so he remained silent. Finally, three fourths of the way through the bottle, Judith fell asleep in Daryl's arms. It amazed Daryl at how small Judith was in his arms. Her small hands were curled around each other, lying lightly on her small chest. He wondered how she'd survive in the world, when she was so fragile. One wrong move and Judith's life could be over. Then again, that's how everyone's life was these days. Everyone else was just slightly more durable.

Daryl handed the bottle back to Beth, who still sat at attention. Daryl ran a calloused finger across Judith's soft cheek. Judith's sleeping face reacted, her nose scrunched slightly. Daryl couldn't imagine anything cuter than Judith in the moment.

He heard noises from the cellblock beyond Carol's cell. He handed Beth the baby, reluctantly. With Judith in his arms he felt a strange sort of hope. Maybe things will get better. He looked over at Carol. Her breathing was unlabored and silent. He hoped to hell it would.

He walked out of the cell, and spotted Rick, Herschel, and Michonne at the entrance of the cellblock. They stood in a semi-circle, Rick giving the later instructions on disposing of the corpses.

"- the walkers on the far side of the fence. Daryl, I'll need you to help clear the bodies with Michonne. Glenn offered to dig Axel's gave. Herschel is going to lead a small service later on in the day. And I'm going to be in the guard tower. After the attack, I want someone up there at all times. I'm about to go relieve Glenn and Maggie now." Rick's voice wavered slightly when he spoke of Axel, but quickly recovered and switched back into 'Leader-mode'. Daryl hated the fact that they were having- yet another- funeral. Axel's death, though sad and too soon, wasn't detrimental. He'd been a new member, hadn't yet found his niche within the group. Who was going to be next? There was always a next. Someone more important- more like family? Rick? Daryl had already lost his last remaining blood-related family, he didn't know what he'd do if his lost this family too. He guessed he'd have to do what he always did: Move on. But suddenly- in light of the past weeks- that didn't seem so easy.

He headed out with Rick and Michonne, and then Rick broke off to go relieve Glenn and Maggie of guard duty. Carl was already in the field between the two set of fences, dragging the large body of a male walker towards the far end of the field. His small form was hunched over the body, pulling with all his strength to move the abnormally large walker. He must have been fresh; judging by the amount of fat was still on him. Daryl wondered how the man ended up dead. But then whipped his musings from his mind. Don't matter how they died as long as they stay dead.

Michonne silently went to work and he did the same. Daryl, surprisingly, enjoyed her company. She was silent and calculating. That made for a good survivor and a good group member. He wondered if she'd earned her spot in the group while he was gone. Judging by Rick's trust that she'd obey his orders, and her following through, Daryl would think that she had.

He offered to help Carl- who had vehemently declined- with the large walker. He'd made some progress but still lacked quite a distance. The boy had spirit, and pride. He wanted to take the whole world on himself. One day, that was going to come back a bite him in the ass.

With the three of them working, by noon, they'd cleared 3/4ths of the bodies. Axel's, wrapped in his sheets, had been moved to the small, makeshift cemetery. Glenn had finished with the grave by then, and had headed to the cellblock to catch some sleep before the funeral.

"Go an' get some water, boy. Ya been here for hours. Me and Michonne got the rest." Daryl whipped sweat from his eyes. The midday sun hung over their heads. It was a beautiful day, the sky a vibrant blue. In another life, he and Merle would be riding on their bikes; raising some hell. But that life had died with the rest of the world. The survivors left behind to fight tooth and nail to put it back together.

Carl hesitated, once again wanting to show he was a part of this group. He had nothing to prove, there wasn't a doubt in Daryl's mind.

Daryl set him with a stern look, and nodded once towards the prison. He obeyed and made his way to the door. He got back to work, grabbing a small girl walker and throwing her over his shoulder. He tried not to look at her, but was unsuccessful. Her face was undistinguishable through gore. Dirty blonde hair hung in clumps. It was short like Sophia's. He threw her into the growing walker pile.

"That boy, he respects you. And so does Rick." Michonne's stable, slow voice broke the day long silence. Daryl nodded. He remembered his first encounter with Rick. Standing in the middle of their camp outside of Atlanta, Rick had told him that he'd handcuffed his brother to a roof. He'd tried to attack Rick, but was stopped by a headlock from Shane. Rick had offered, even though he'd just been reunited with his family, to go back for Merle. Rick was a good man, who'd done right by Daryl. It seemed like years and years ago that they'd first met. Times sure have changed. Daryl wondered if Merle had just stayed on the roof, if things would have played out differently. They'd planned on robbing the group. Would he have been able to go through with it? Would Merle still be alive? Maybe even have found a place within their group? Daryl didn't know. Ain't no point in worrying about the 'could-have-been's.

Daryl and Michonne finished in silence, no words needing to be said. The silence wasn't awkward, it was comfortable. Well, as comfortable as one could be while dragging dead bodies into a pile.

Daryl lit several matches, throwing each to a different spot in the large pile. Soon the flames where engulfing the bodies. Daryl turned away, scrunching his nose at the smell of burning flesh.

Rick, carrying two plates of beans, was making his way towards them. "Sorry, we haven't really been able to get anyone to go out hunting. Beans are the only thing we have. I just left the guard tower. Daryl would you mind taking the next watch? We'll hold Axel's funeral at sunset."

Daryl grabbed one of the plates, giving Rick a grunt, and headed toward the guard tower. He stood over the railing, eyes skirting over the skyline as he ate. A rifle was left up here for whoever was on guard. Daryl set his finished plate of food down, and slung the gun over his shoulder. Better safe than sorry.

The sky was turning to shades of red and yellow when someone came for him. Maggie, looking like she hadn't slept in weeks, stepped through the door.

"The funeral is about to start. Rick said to come get you. Said that we could spare some time for the funeral." Maggie's eyes shifted to the perimeter, as if she didn't necessarily agree with that assessment.

"Tell Rick I'm stayin' up here. Y'all go on ahead." Daryl didn't want them to be unprotected. He, also, didn't believe he belonged down there, paying respects to a man he barely knew. He respected Axel; he just didn't feel as if it was his place. Rick knew him better; hell the whole group knew him better. Carol more than most. He wished she'd wake up; she'd want to be there.

Maggie's eyes flitted from the perimeter to his face. She looked as if she was searching for something. Evidently she found it, because she stepped closer to him and place a hand on his shoulder. When did this group get so touchy?

"Thank you." She said meaningfully. Daryl wasn't sure if she was thanking him for keeping guard or coming back. In the way she said it, it sort of felt like both. Daryl grunted, awkward at her thanks. He shook her hand off.

"Ain't nothin'" He said as he turned to, once again scan the outskirts of their home. He heard the door closing behind Maggie, and later saw her figure, along with everyone else's, heading for the cemetery. His eyes would take a moment to scan the perimeter, and then to watch the proceedings. Alternating between the two. All was quiet.

His small group stood around Rick and Glenn as the covered Axel with dirt. Though he couldn't hear him, Daryl knew that Herschel was whispering soft, spiritual words to the congregation. As his eyes were once again taking in the prison's surroundings, Daryl heard a soft and soulful singing fill the quite evening. Beth.

"And in the naked light I saw  
Ten thousand people, maybe more.  
People talking without speaking,  
People hearing without listening,  
People writing songs that voices never share  
and no one dared  
Disturb the sound of silence."

Tear pricked at the back of his eyes. He agitatedly put his palm to his eye. He shook off the sadness, and went back to keeping lookout. In the darkening forest, he saw movement. A blonde headed figure was walking towards the prison. He couldn't see any others, but didn't trust for one minute that this one person was it. From his perch he could just make out the shape, a female.

He called down the gathered group, cutting off Beth's singing. They all sprang into action. Herschel, Maggie, and Beth headed for the safety of the prison, while Rick, Glenn, Michonne, and Carl headed for the gates. Daryl headed for the stairs, slamming through the door at the bottom. He reached it a few seconds a before the rest of them. Rick stared through the fencing at the disheveled woman.

"Son of a bitch." Daryl muttered.

* * *

**A/N: Did you enjoy it? Oh, the song Beth sings is called 'Sound of Silence' by Simon and Garfunkel. (Haha, 'Garfunkel'. That name amuses me to no end.) Tell me what you think! R&R!**


	6. Chapter 6: Home Coming

_**A/N:**** I know, I know! I'm awful. Its been a month since I've updated this. A month. Thats a life span for some. I do have excuses, but I'm not going to air them out. Anyways, this chapter is iffy. (Sorry! Again!) It'll pick up in the next chapter (Hopefully) Well, without further stalling, Here you go!**_

_**Thanks to all of those who reviewed, alerted, or favorited! It means a lot! (Though y'all probably hate me right about now!)**_

* * *

Chapter 6: Home Coming

_"Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go." _  
_―Sarah Dessen, What Happened to Goodbye._

* * *

"Come on. Open the-" Andrea turned and stabbed her leashed walker under the chin. "damn gate!" Her voice hitched higher. More walkers where noticing the easy prey at their home front. Daryl stood off to the side, aiming the rifle from the guard tower at the blonde's head. Daryl didn't want her to die, but he damn sure didn't trust her. She's been behind enemy lines far too long.

Rick's gaze swept over Daryl, Glenn, and Michonne. He was asking them, silently, for their opinions. Glenn and Daryl gave slight nods. No matter how much they didn't like the fact that she was here, they didn't want to see their former group member eaten alive. Michonne didn't acknowledge Rick's questioning gaze. She stood completely still, a look of barely contained betrayal on her face. Daryl didn't have time to muse over what was behind that look.

Rick opened the gate, just as two walkers where bearing down on Andrea. The gate made a metallic gating noise as it was opened then closed abruptly. Michonne stabbed the walkers with her Katana through the fence, and backed away; setting Andrea was a cold stare.

"Whew! Thanks, R-" Andrea didn't have time to finish her sentence, Rick was already disarming her. He knocked her knife free from her hand. It skidded across the ground landing at Daryl's feet. Rick pushed her against the fencing, frisking her for any more weapons. He came up with a small handgun from her boot and another knife in her belt. Daryl didn't blame Rick for his hostile behavior. Hell he'd probably do the same if he were him. They couldn't risk any more lives.

"Are you alone?" Rick snapped, pushing her harder into the fence. She let out a short cry when her cheek scraped against the metal.

"What the he-" Another shove.

"Are you alone!" Daryl raised his gun higher, aiming for Andrea's head. Her eyes landed on him, a look of disbelief overtaking her features. Daryl thought back to the time she'd shot him in the head. It had been an accident. She'd thought he was a walker. If it really came down to it, could he pull the trigger? End Andrea's life? He didn't know. Daryl guessed he'd find out.

"Yes. Yes, I'm alone!" Her voice was no longer panicked; it was moving more towards all out anger. Rick eased his grip from her, allowing her to move from the fence. Rick still was on edge, aiming his gun at the blonde. The sun was barely visible now, sending the group into shadow. Daryl turned on a flashlight and tossed it to Glenn. He pointed it at Andrea. Keeping the threat in their sights.

"What are you doing here?" Rick's voice was less angry now, more annoyed than anything. Andrea scoffed, looking between the four group members. Her gazed stopped on Michonne.

"Talk about a welcome home party. Are y'all sure you don't want to perform a damn strip search? The prison life sure is getting to you." Andrea stood with her hands on her hips. Her voice was sarcastic but Daryl noticed that her hands were shaking. She was either very pissed or scared. He was betting on the latter. He was getting real aggravated by this woman. Why couldn't she just answer a damn question?

"What are ya doin' here!" Daryl growled at her. Her eyes went from Michonne to him in an instant. She glared at the rifle in his hands, and raised her hands innocently.

"Oh, calm down. I came here for peace, not a rifle stuck in my face! What happened to you guys? Why the hostility?" As if she didn't know, Daryl thought sarcastically. He still trained his rifle at her, waiting for an order from Rick.

"Your Governor happened. He attacked us, out of nowhere, yesterday!" Rick shouted at the blonde. His voice sounded tired. He had lost a decent man yesterday. Just weeks after the loss his wife. He had an infant to protect, as well as a whole group. Daryl admired the man for his perseverance. Hell, if Daryl was in his shoes, he didn't know what he'd do.

"He said you fired first. And you did just attack his town, he was just trying to protect his people. Just like you. There doesn't need to be a fight here. Y'all can live in peace." Andrea's voice was so hopeful. Daryl let out a snort of disbelief.

"He had Glenn and Maggie hostage! Did he tell you that? That's why we 'attacked' your precious town. And he fired on us. Sent a truck full of walkers through the gate. Shot one of ours in the head. Another in the stomach. We were in the middle of a damn funeral when you showed up!" Rick's voice was heightening with his growing anger. Daryl didn't blame him. Daryl, himself, was growing angry. Andrea was standing in shock before the small group. Her hand was over her mouth. Her eyes wide.

Rick gave Daryl a signal to lower his gun. He obliged, slinging it over his shoulder. Rick turned, waving for them to follow him. Daryl was at the rear, behind Andrea. Michonne was in front of her, giving her the cold shoulder.

"Who? I-" Daryl cut her off with a scoff.

"Ain't no one you knew. An inmate we found in the prison. A good man, shot in the head." Daryl made sure his voice was void of emotion. He didn't want Andrea going and telling the governor that their group was weak and grieving.

"I'm sorry. Was the person who was shot in the stomach- did they make it? Was that an inmate, too?" She asked. He was tired of this.

"The hell is this? Twenty questions?" Her growled at the blonde. He didn't want to share with her the group's state. It seemed like Rick's place to decide what was shared and what was kept a secret.

"It was Carol." Michonne's collected voice slide back towards the pair. They were in the prison's hallways now, it echoed against the walls.

"She's fine." Daryl said, directing it at Michonne. Why did she not just keep her mouth shut, like usual? They made it to the cellblock's entrance. Rick slid it open. Herschel, Carl, Maggie, and Beth were waiting there. They rushed towards Rick at once.

"What happened, Ri-" Herschel started, then caught sight of Andrea. "What's going on?"

"I've come to try to figure out how we can work this out, peacefully." Andrea stated, all smiles. She looked between the group members, eyes landing on Judith in Beth's arms.

"Oh my god. She's beautiful!" She stepped towards the younger blonde, holding her hands out for the baby. Beth hesitated, unsure as to if she should hand the baby over. Daryl stood back, watching Andrea closely. If she made the wrong move, he was prepared to act.

When the blonde had the baby in her arms, she cooed mindlessly at her. Here we go again with the idiot talk. Daryl might not have the biggest vocabulary, but he was sure bwabwaycwakes wasn't a word. He didn't voice his opinions on the matter. It wasn't his kid, he had no say in the way people spoke to it.

"Where's Lori?" Andrea looked around expectantly. Everyone's face fell visibly. They ducked their heads, avoiding the blonde's gaze. Daryl looked to Carol's cell at the end of the block. He wished he could slip away, but he still wasn't one hundred percent sure of Andrea's trustworthiness. There was a small gasp as Andrea caught on.

"How?" She choked out. Daryl refocused his gaze on Andrea. Rick, standing beside her, had a distant look to his face as he cleared his throat.

"Child birth." He managed to choke out. Daryl felt the familiar sadness settle over the group. Would that sadness ever go away? Or be a constant reminder that what they loved was forever taken away?

"Rick, I- I'm so sorry. What about Shane? T-dog? Merle?" Her teary blue eyes landed on Daryl, looking for information. The question was: information for who? Herself? Or the Governor? Did she plan on returning to Woodbury?

"Shane was lost when the farm was overrun. T-dog , by sacrificing his own, saved Carol's life when walker's got into the prison. And Merle is gone." Maggie finally spoke up, having been standing at the sidelines with Glenn. She left out that Rick caused Shane's death. And no one moved to fill in the blank. Daryl pushed against the grief threatening to envelope him. Merle was gone. Three words that sent Daryl's mind into a clouded haze. He shook his head, shaking it off.

The blonde was speechless for a moment. Then regained her composure. "Carol, you said that she was alright. Where is she?"

"She's resting at the moment. She's been out since yesterday. I believe the shock of the bullet and the event of Axel's death caused her body to momentarily shut down. We are hoping that she'll wake at any time. At least that's my theory and our hopes." Herschel had started out confident, but by the end his voice was wavering with worry. These days their whole lives revolved around worry. Worry for their lives, food, shelter, war. It was never ending.

Daryl was getting tired of this. All these people mashed together in the entrance of the cell block. If Andrea caused any trouble, the group could handle it. He needed fresh air. He moved towards Rick's side.

"Goin' to keep watch. Just cause she seems alright, don't mean that there still isn't a threat outside." Daryl didn't give Rick time to approve, Daryl knew that he would. He made his way to the guard tower. As he passed the grounds of the prison, he made a short stop at the cemetery. Axel's fresh grave had a small wooden cross poking out from it. A small rock, with 'Axel' written in white chalk was lying under the cross as a makeshift headstone. Daryl wasn't sure why he'd come over there. He still wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do. But it also felt wrong not to say anything.

He knelt down awkwardly, placing a hand on the rough wood of the cross. "Ya were a good man." He grunted out, before standing up straight again. As he was moving away from the grave, he spotted Carol's a few feet away. The Cherokee rose he'd put there when he'd thought she died was dead and wilted. The once beautiful white of the petals were now a dirty brown color. Irrational rage filled Daryl.

Why couldn't one damn thing live? Just one flower! He rushed over to the empty grave, and kicked the flower. Dirt, rotten flower, and Carol's wooden cross went flying. Angry tears pricked at the back of Daryl's eyes. He felt like he's been crying too much lately. With his brother's death lying heavy on his mind and Carol being unconscious, he felt like that's all he could do. When would something go right?

What the hell did these people do to deserve this shitty hand they were dealt? Daryl, himself, knew he wasn't a saint. Neither was Merle. But it seemed like the blows just kept coming. The constant threat of another life being lost was always, always on his mind. Sometimes he wondered if it would be best to just end it all with a bullet to the brain. But that wasn't an option. Even with all the sorrow and pain, he was still counted on. That's what kept Daryl going. He had a family within this group, people who need him. And he, though he didn't often admit it, needed them in return. The anger left him as fast as it had come. He tidied up the mess he made. The cross was broken from the force of his boot. He reckoned it didn't matter. There grave marker was a moot point. The person it was for was alive. But for how long? That voice in the back of his mind taunted. Once again it sounded like Merle.

He ignored it and again headed for the guard tower.

The sun was beginning to rise when Glenn and Maggie showed up to relieve him of watch. Did those two ever leave each other alone? Every time Daryl saw Glenn the brunette was attached to his hand. Is that how every couple had to be? Looking back on Rick and Lori's relationship, Daryl didn't think so. Then again, their marriage wasn't exactly perfect before her passing. Daryl wondered how Rick was coping with that fact. He hadn't seen Rick losing touch with his sanity, yet. Then again he'd only been back two days. There were times, when Daryl felt like going crazy. But then he'd remember his responsibilities and regain composure. Was that how Rick did it too?

When he entered the cellblock, he was greeted with a plate of beans from Beth. He really needed to go hunting. All these beans were starting to get old. He sat on the stairs, wolfing down his helping as fast as possible. He didn't even let his tongue register the flavor. Once he was done, he handed the younger blonde back the plate with a grunt of thanks. He headed for Carol's cell. He hadn't seen her since yesterday morning.

"Hey, Daryl? I'm going to be going to the showers. Would you mind feeding Judith? She was restless again last night. Andrea's still here, I could ask her if you don't want to…" She trailed off, awkward at asking the redneck for help.

"A'right. I'll feed her. When she plannin on leaving? Or she staying. Ya know?" Daryl wasn't sure about the older blonde's loyalty, but they for damn sure could use the extra manpower. The young blonde shrugged and handed Daryl a bottle. He headed for the box labeled "Lil Asskicker". He'd made her the temporary crib before he had left. He wanted to go on a run and find her a proper one. Could babies get sick from cardboard? Seemed like there was always something a baby shouldn't come in contact with. He leaned over and gently brought the baby to his chest. He was once again amazed by her tiny size.

Once again, the baby took the bottle from Daryl with ease. Beth shook her head.

"How do you do that? I think she likes you or something. Or maybe she's just tired of me." Beth smiled down at the baby in his arms. "I'm the one she sees every time her eyes open. I guess she's in need of a change of scenery. I'd like to take her outside to play with flowers or something. Poor thing hasn't got any toys. But with the threat of Woodbury I'm worried if I take her out I wouldn't be able to save her, ya know?" She seemed to be speaking to herself rather than Daryl. He shifted his weight awkwardly from each foot, unsure what do say to the young girl. Should he tell her that that was a good idea? That she should take her outside? But she had a point about the protection, for the both of them. He said the first thing that came to mind.

"I'll take her out later. After I see Carol." He said, averting his eyes to the now half empty bottle.

"Are you sure? I was just thinking out loud. You don't have to." Yeah, he didn't have to. He wanted to. The little girl needed some fresh air. When Daryl was a kid, the outdoors was his sanctuary, his one escape from the world and his father. Besides, he didn't want to sleep. He'd managed to not get any last night because he was on watch. This was just something else to occupy his mind.

"S'fine. You can come too. Ya don't have to stay cooped up inside like a inmate." The girl was practically a ghost, her complexion was so pale. It was high contrast to Daryl's tanned and grimy skin.

"That'd be great. Thank you, Daryl. I'm going to the showers first though. I'll meet you out there later?" Daryl gave her a nod in response, and headed for Carol's cell. As he reached the cell, Judith finished her bottle. He set in on the floor outside the cell.

Inside, Herschel was doing his morning routine. Checking the vital signs. Andrea was in the place where Beth had sat yesterday. The older blonde turned to him and smirked.

"Well, I'll be damned. Daryl Dixon, a nanny?" She teased. Daryl felt heat rise to his cheeks. He ignored her, turning his gaze to Herschel.

"Any change?" He murmured, still embarrassed by Andrea's comment.

"Her heart rate is faster, less mellow. She seems to be slowly coming back to us. I believe she'll awake by the end of the day. At the latest, tomorrow." Daryl, for the first time in days, felt happy. Carol was going to wake up. Today.

"Good." He said, eyes landing on Carol. Daryl could see what Herschel meant when he said 'coming back to us' her face no longer looked far away. It looked rested, and full of color. Daryl felt a small smile slip onto his face. Herschel gave the redneck a smile and the baby a wave as he exited the cell.

"Ya hear that Asskicker? Carol's wakin' today." At the sound of Daryl's voice, the baby also had a smile spread wide across her face. Gums showed behind her stretched lips. When did babies get their teeth?

"Normally it's the baby who has people wrapped around their finger, not the other way around. That baby is mesmerized by you. Maybe it's the hair." Daryl looked at Andrea, smile falling from his face. The hell was wrong with his hair?

"Ain't nothing wrong with my hair." He said, glaring at the woman.

"Ease up, Daryl. I was kidding." Her eyes traveled up from his boots to his face. He felt awkward under her scrutinizing stare. Was she looking for something else to tease him about? Daryl was conscious of his crossbow leaning against the wall, were he'd left it when he first returned. Daryl wondered, with a laugh, how blondie would like an arrow in the ass.

"M'goin' outside. Get Asskicker some air." He said, walking back out of the cell. It seemed like he'd never get alone time with Carol. There was always someone at her side. He picked his crossbow up, easily slinging it over his shoulder even though he was holding a baby. He felt better when its familiar weight was against his back. Andrea followed behind him.

The sun was bright in the sky, unaffected by the small wispy clouds. Judith squinted against the harsh rays. With a laugh, Daryl used his hand to cover her eyes. She reached for his fingers, face awed. Carl walked up with Rick and Michonne following closely behind.

"I need to know what you are planning on doing Andrea. When don't have time. We spoke about your suggestions and his standings last night. I've thought over them. If he really is willing to negotiate, then I will meet him. As for his terms. I'll only take two men, as asked. But are you planning on staying? Or leaving? You may do either. We, unlike your governor, are not running a prison camp." Rick's eyes were cold when he spoke of the governor. Andrea rolled her eyes. What where they talking about? A negotiation? What had Daryl missed last night while he was on watch?

"I'm going back to Woodbury. I'll tell him you agreed. Don't you see? This is all for the best. He will want to meet in two days, at a small abandoned farm halfway between here and Woodbury. If you head straight from here, you can't miss it." Daryl recalled passing a farm when he and Merle were searching for shelter.

"We'll supply you with a car and a gun. They aren't much, but that is all we can spare. I hope it isn't rude, but I'd prefer you leave as soon as possible. We have preparations to make." There was something about the way Rick said preparations that made Daryl think he had something devious up his sleeve.

Daryl smirked. He hoped it involved kicking the Governor's ass up over his shoulders.

* * *

**_I sort of rushed to write this. (I just got my laptop back.) So, sorry if there are any errors! I hope you enjoyed. Once again, I apologize for the long wait. R&R! _**

**_xoxo, Badass._**


End file.
